Belgian capitalist, a desperate gamester if ever there was one,
and who can lose a hundred thousand francs without much
inconvenience, is now at Boulogne, where he will remain a week.
This millionnaire must be thinned a little. Nothing is easier.
One of my friends and confreres, named Chaffard, is already with
the count to prepare the way. We have only now to set to work.
You are one of us--that's agreed--and in a few days you will
return, to satisfy your creditors and buy your mistress a shawl.'

'Stop a bit. You are going too fast. Wait a little. I haven't
as yet said Yes,' replied Olivier. 'I don't want your Yes now;
you will say it at Boulogne. For the present go and pay your
bill. We set out in two hours; the post-horses are already
ordered; we shall start from my house: be punctual.'

The party reached Boulogne and put up at the Hotel de l'Univers.
On their arrival they were informed that no time was to be lost,
as the count talked of leaving next day. The two travellers took
a hasty dinner, and at once proceeded to the apartment of the
Belgian millionnaire. Chaffard, who had preceded them,
introduced them as two of his friends, whose property was
situated in the vicinity of Boulogne.

M. le Comte de Vandermool was a man about fifty years of age,
with an open, candid countenance. He wore several foreign
decorations. He received the two gentlemen with charming
affability; he did more; he invited them to spend the evening
with him. Of course the invitation was accepted. When the
conversation began to flag, the count proposed a game--which was
also, of course, very readily agreed to by the three comperes.